Matters of the Heart
by FangGirl24
Summary: Lucius cannot understand why his wife is so adamant about love. Purebloods very rarely married for affection, so what could be the problem? New feelings come to light. Fluff. Lucius Malfoy/OC


She never touched him, but for the occasional brush of fingers against his sleeve. It irked Lucius, to be sure; a wife should not be so hard put to make bodily contact with her spouse. Albeit, their marriage was not one of mutual affection, if any at all.  
Arranged during her 7th year at Hogwarts, and a year after his graduation, their old-blooded, old-fashioned parents thought it best that they be wedded immediately after her final term. Not in any position to object, as pureblooded families are known to disown their wayward progeny, they married a month after her graduation.  
Lucius tried to be understanding toward his wife, but, for the life of him, he could not understand why she insisted on being so cold toward his attentions. Love was hardly a substantial reason, he had argued, purebloods very rarely married for affection. She had only turned her back, murmuring something about civility not being an adequate founding for their relationship.

* * *

Lucius quietly made his way to his bedrooms, careful to keep the charmed light at the end of his wand dimmed, so as not to wake his young wife. As he quietly crept over to the bedside, he was surprised to find it empty, the covers untouched since the house elf had changed them that morning. Brow furrowing in confusion and, hesitant as he was to admit it, concern, Lucius quickly turned from the room, intent on finding his lost mistress. What could have possibly hindered her from retiring? The hour was absurdly late, or early depending on how you looked at it, as The Dark Lord had kept him especially busy tonight. There was no reason why she should not be safely tucked into bed, dreaming and content, as she usually was when he returned from long missions.  
Hurriedly leaving the room, he walked briskly through the halls, checking the rooms located on the top floor of the manor.  
Fear suddenly gripped his heart; had The Dark Lord been displeased with him, and decided to punish him by taking his wife? She was innocent in all of this! Far too sensitive and fragile to handle his master's ire- hell, even grown men broke under the torture Lord Voldemort was capable of. Growling in irritation, as well as blatant worry, he hissed a simple, "Point me!"  
His wand immediately responded, guiding him to the staircase, where he took the steps two at a time, not making a sound. As he reached the ground floor, the pull from his wand stopped momentarily, before urging him to turn on the spot and start down the far hall.  
Slinking through the dark hall, he kept his breathing steady while his heart raced. He arrived at the dark oak door leading to his study. Preparing for the worst- the sight of his wife's mangled, dead body at the feet of his lord- Lucius cast a simple silencing spell before slowly opening the heavy door. Wand poised to fire a curse, if needed, he stepped cautiously into the dimly lit room.  
A fire flickered softly in the hearth, the only light source in the study, shadows encompassing the vast area, and as Lucius searched the shadows from where he stood, he relaxed at the realization that his wife sat, alone and unharmed, on the sofa by the grand fireplace. The fear that had been gripping his heart and rolling his stomach was put at ease.  
He made he way over to her, and as her back was facing the door and his steps were light, she did not notice him. Her attention was solely on the item in her lap, and as Lucius reached the back of the sofa he was able to see that it was a leather-bound sketchbook that his wife was bent over, muttering softly to herself.  
"No, no, sharper- his features are sharper, more pronounced…"  
The soft scratch of graphite against stiff paper accompanied these quiet words.  
Shifting so that he was looking at her on a slight angle, Lucius studied her; it wasn't often he could watch her without her noticing- at least not while she was awake. Her dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, framing her face, and sliding into her eyes, at which point she tucked it behind an ear. Her features, indeed, quite the contrast with his own, were soft and feminine; Her brows furrowed, cheeks holding a warm flush. Her hazel eyes were focused, the flames reflecting in their shining depths. Her lips slightly puckered in concentration. Lucius was hit with the abrupt realization that he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. What was this he was feeling? Where had this feeling come from?  
Disconcerted, he turned his attention to that which the young witch was working on so single-mindedly. She had pulled back a bit, allowing him to see what it was she had been drawing.  
He blinked. He blinked again. The image didn't change. Staring broodingly from the page was Lucius, himself. Pulled from his surprise by her soft grunt of frustration, he turned back to the young woman.  
"No," she growled, furiously attacking the sketch with her eraser, "That's still not right!"  
Banishing one side of his jaw from the sketch, she began again, pencil strokes the only sound other than the crackle of flame and their steady breathing. After a long moment she pulled away once more, holding up the book for her inspection.  
"Much better." she sighed, lowering the book back to her lap.  
Lucius had to agree, though before the change the sketch had looked startlingly similar, now it was without a doubt an exact replica of his own face. It was amazing what just a few pencil strokes could do.  
A warm feeling spread through his chest, and a soft smile made its way over his face.  
"Indeed," he spoke slowly, bending to leaning against the sofa, resting his elbows on the stiff cushion.  
She squeaked, standing and spinning around in the same movement, almost toppling over backwards into the sturdy coffee table.  
"Lucius!" she squawked, eyes wide, face burning. She stood there clutching the sketchbook to her chest in mortification and horror, "I- you- you weren't supposed to-" tightening her grip on the offending book, she finished weakly, "see that…"  
Lucius, amusement glittering in his pale blue eyes, smirked at her and said, in a teasing tone,  
"I had no idea you were so fascinated with me." he raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head to indicate the sketchbook. He widened his smirk, flicking his long pale blond hair over his shoulder, "Of course, I should have known; no one can resist my charms."  
Taken by surprise by his playful tone, she forgot herself for a moment and let loose an unladylike snort. Smirk turning into a genuine grin, the tall wizard straightened and stalked out from behind the sofa, slow and graceful. Alarmed, the witch turn to face him, backing up till she could feel the heat from the fire through her long-skirted dress that she hadn't bothered changing. Stopping directly in front of her, placing one hand on the mantle next to her head, Lucius tilted his head, eyes half-lidded as he studied his witch. Eyes glittering with mischief, he leaned down close to her face, successfully directing her attention away from the book as his masculine scent overtook her senses.  
"Tell me, darling," he murmured, fingers skimming the binding of the book, "For how long have you held such an… interest… for me?"  
She blinked coming back to her senses, and made to move the sketchbook away, but Lucius had gripped it firmly, and had slid it through her fingers. Liberating her of the book, he held it in front of her face before holding it above his head as she lunged for it,  
"Give that back!" she yelped, fear clutching her heart, "That's private!"  
Smirking once more, he danced away, easily keeping the book out of her reach. Graceful as always, he hurried behind the sofa, turning to his wife, who stood directly opposite him on the other side.  
"Shall we see just how long you've been musing over me?"  
Eyes wide and face pale she lunged onto the sofa, shouting,  
"Don't you dare!"  
Grin firmly in place, eyes dancing in ill-concealed mirth, he stepped out of range and flipped the leather cover open.  
"Lucius Malfoy, _so help me God_, I will hex you into next Thursday!" the mortified witch hissed.  
Undeterred, he carried on, flipping through the book. The beginning of the book consisted mostly of scenery, but toward the middle he began to see sketch after sketch of himself. Sketches where he was sleeping peacefully, reading, standing by the large windows in the library; page after page, until he came upon the most recent one, the one she had been drawing when he found her. Eyebrows raised, he turned to her to find her face hidden in her hands, but her blush still visible. That feeling he had refused to name earlier, came back ten fold. Heart pounding in his chest, while he felt strangely lightheaded.  
Swallowing, he stepped forward, the only thing between them was the back of the sofa. Setting the sketchbook aside, balancing it on the edge of the couch, he gently grasped her wrists and pulled them away from her flushed face. From her kneeling position on the cushioned seat, she refused to meet his eyes, and turned her head. Leaning, trying to catch her eye, Lucius coaxed,  
"Look at me, love."  
She closed her eyes and swallowed, an almost pained look on her face. "Alanna, look at me."  
Slowly she turned her head and raised her eyes to his, looking lost and incredibly lonely. Alarmed, he tightened his grip on her wrists,  
"What's wrong?" surely, his anticts hadn't caused such an expression… Surely?  
A conflicted look crossed her face, and she bit her lip before whispering, "Did you mean that?"  
Furrowing his brow in confusion he asked, "Mean what, exactly?"  
"Love," her voice hitched, "You called me _love_."  
Lucius blinked. So he had. And as he thought about it, he realized he didn't want to take it back. He finally acknowledged the feeling that he had somehow, in the months of silent companionship, developed for this small, beautiful witch. The feeling that had fueled the fear he had felt when he could not find her. That had made him willing to defy his master to defend her.  
Love.  
With a sudden gentleness, he released Alanna's wrists and lightly brushed the back of his fingers against her cheek before cupping them with his palms.  
"Alanna…" he whispered, voice coming out soft yet strong, "Of course I meant it."  
Her face held a caution he was not used to seeing, but in her eyes he saw something reminiscent to hope.  
He leaned down till their faces were mere inches away, never breaking eye-contact, "I wouldn't have said it, otherwise."  
He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip, eyes softening when she relaxed into his touch, closing her own eyes.  
Feeling that he must do something now, lest she pull away and reject him, he closed the rest of the distance between them until his lips were touching hers. He hesitated for a moment, but soon threw caution to the wind. He was a Malfoy, after all, and Malfoy's are not known to hesitate. His firm lips moved across her soft, full ones, demanding and giving at the same time. Shifting one hand into her hair, he pulled her closer still, if at all possible. When he asked to deepen their kiss, she complied, content to let him have full reign over her mouth. Her hands had snaked up, into his long, silky hair, pulling at the roots, begging for more.  
Reluctantly, Lucius pulled away, allowing them to breath. Panting and flushed, they watched each other as if seeing them for the first time.  
"I love you." Alanna suddenly whispered, breasts heaving, and hair mussed.  
Lucius smiled, perfect white teeth visible for what could have been the third time in their married life of five months.  
"And I, you." he purred, carefully lifting her over the back of the couch, with ease. She was surprised when he didn't set her down, instead, shifting her in his arms so that he was carrying her with one arm beneath her knees, and the other around her shoulders.  
She thought he looked gorgeous, with his unusual pale hair a wild mess, and his eyes hungry for more.  
"Come, love," she shivered as his deep voice washed over her, and a smirk, his most common expression, once more made an appearance, "Time for bed."

* * *

**A/N: Right, so this was really just a bit of a crack!fic. I hadn't really intended for it to happen. Anyway, sorry if Luci went a bit OOC, I'm not very familiar with his character (another reason why I hadn't meant for this fic to come about). I apologize for any and all mistakes that I may have missed; if you notice any, please let me know so I can fix it. **

**(Can you spot the _exact_ moment where I decided on a name for my OC? I probably could have edited it, but I was lazy and didn't feel like doing anything.)**

**I did not label this as AU (although, I suppose it is, in the long run), because I have every intention of leading this back to Lucius' main storyline. So, while this story is not a main priority, I do plan on adding to it, later on.**

**Reviews are welcome! Thanks for reading.**


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